


To: Phil, From: Clint

by brassmama



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Retail, Anxiety, Christmas, Loosely Based on the Gift of the Magi, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:36:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2890484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brassmama/pseuds/brassmama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint can just barely scrape together enough for the perfect gift for Phil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To: Phil, From: Clint

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the mods of feelstide for being patient with me as this fic is severely late due to my own personal and work commitments.
> 
> This fic is unbeta'd, so any glaring mistakes will be graciously corrected.
> 
> Original prompt: AU - Retail during the Christmas Season  
> I didn't stick very close to that prompt.

Snow melted into Clint’s boots as he walked. As things stood, three day old snow was terrible to walk through. It wasn’t even pretty snow. It was nasty, grey dirty snow. More like slush, Clint decided, his boots splashing a particularly large puddle on to his work slacks.

Christmas Eve and the only potential saving grace for today was that he was supposed to get a bonus at work when his shift was over at seven. Management was calling it a “Holiday Gift” and everyone had expecting it to be a few extra dollars for them to buy something special.

Clint had already spoke to the owner of Phil and his usual comic store about waiting up for him. Someone had sold them a whole box of comics; the owner had found a slightly foxed copy of the third issue of the original Captain America comics. He and Clint had come to an agreement on the price, and with tonight’s bonus he’d have enough. He’d have to take January off from the archery range, but he’d decided that seeing Phil’s face tonight would be worth it.

Of course, Clint worked retail and it was Christmas Eve.

So, after a day of dealing with stressed out people, mostly nice people who tried to be as patient as possible - but the assholes kind of ruined it for everyone, Clint had dropped into the staff room to log out and pick up his bonus. As expected, the intent was to help pay for something nice - with in-store credit, which while nice still, was useless for Clint's plans.

Now Clint’s boot’s were wet and cold. He had already put down a deposit toward the comic, and now he wasn’t gonna be able to afford it. If he were home, in the safety and privacy of his and Phil’s bedroom, he’d have had bit of a breakdown to work through it. As it was, he was in public and curling up into a ball of silent tears wasn’t a viable option. 

Clint didn’t do frustration. Well, he did, because that was working in any job involving people, but this was frustration he hadn’t planned to combat. His anxiety was cranked up to ten. He was gonna have wasted the hundred bucks he’d put down, money that he could have put toward some other gift. And now he just felt stupid and short-sighted. He’d be thrashing himself for this for months. 

Clint saw the bus stop bench was empty ahead, so he slumped down onto the cold metal. He tried to work through his usual coping patterns. He was human. He made mistakes. It wasn’t the end of the world. He couldn’t fix it now, and if he was going to make it home, he needed to focus on what he could do. Not blame himself for getting tunnel vision. Not think through the what ifs - He should have skipped this month at the range, should have skipped buying new arrows last week, **_should have_** \- 

The bus splashed a puddle as it turned the corner, prompting Clint to stand. He could do this, get home before he pulled the covers over his head. On autopilot, Clint scanned his bus pass -should have just walked this month- and sat in the usual window space. Twenty minutes and he’d be a block from the apartment and he could do that. 

Two stops from home, his phone buzzed. A text from Phil. _Hour left of shift. Been a bear. Hope ur shift went well. C u tonite. Luv u._

Clint’s reaction to smile was instantly crushed by the _STUPID FUCKING ANXIETY_ that flooded back into his thoughts. Phil was going to be so tired when he got home from his job -working at a tree farm while college was out and he was on break from classes and working on campus as a janitor- and all Clint would have to greet him was the lamb chops he’d splurged on yesterday. Another thing you shouldn’t have bought. 

Trying to find the silent thoughts he’d had before, Clint looked out the window, the pawn shop he biked past in full view. 

Now, there was an idea. Clint already hated it, but it was an idea.

* * *

Clint rode the bus back half an hour later, getting off half a block from the shop. Almost there, he saw Pepper Potts get out of a taxi up ahead. 

Pepper was a friend of Phil’s family, and had gone to school with Phil when they had been freshman and sophomores. She’d been interning at Stark Industries when a chance encounter, well more like huge fraud in the companies books, had introduced her to the owner of the company Tony Stark. She’d impressed him and he’d tried everything he could to get her to agree to become his assistant. 

Since then, she wasn’t around as much, but she and Phil talked nearly every other day.

“Clint?” Pepper walked up, offering a hug.

Clint tried to smile, and accepted. Pepper was pretty great at hugs. 

“Hey, Pepper. Merry Christmas. Whatcha doing way down here?” Clint adjusted the gym bag he was carrying.

“I was coming to pick up a few finds. And I went over and bought some wreaths from Phil. What about you? I thought you’d be done for the day by now.” She opened the door to the shop, letting Clint in. _Great…_

“I needed to look for something for Phil.” 

Pepper eyed the gym bag. Clint could tell she knew what he was doing. “Well, don’t buy him any Bucky action figures. I found a great vintage one for him. Gonna give it to him at the party.” The party she referred to was Tony Stark’s staff party, but Pepper always invited Phil and Clint since Phil’s family lived out of town and so did most of Clint and Phil’s friends.

“No worries there.” He smiled. It felt forced. Pepper’s was too. At least she wasn’t, he didn’t know, offering to loan Clint money. That would be too obvious for Pepper; Clint had no doubt she was already trying to come up with a way to help. She was sneaky.

“Well, I’m gonna go get the rest of my errand done. Merry Christmas, Clint.” And Pepper left giving him a pat on the shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

Clint sighed, relieved no one would witness him selling his bow for cash. It was really the only thing of value he could sell, all his other valuables were things he needed for his physics courses or work. He haggled the owner up to a decent price for the recurve he’d used back in his circus days plus the arrows he had, and didn’t realize until much later that Pepper hadn’t bought anything before she’d left.

* * *

Clint was pulling the lamb chops out when Phil got home. It had started to snow again, and the huge, wet flakes stuck all over Phil’s outerwear. They had decided to set up a pair of chairs on which to hang the soaked clothing.

Phil’s smile when he saw Clint was giddy, and Clint set the pan down to go give his boyfriend a hug. Phil also gave great hugs. And kisses. Phil’s face was stubbled and Clint appreciated how busy the last week has been for Phil, who is usually clean shaven.

“Merry Christmas.” Phil leaned back on the countertop.

“Merry Christmas.” Clint grabbed plates down for the food. “Dinner and then gifts?”

“I’m starving, so please.” Phil got busy grabbing cups and silverware.

Dinner was a simple meal and Phil shared a few humorous and frustrating stories about his day, and Clint told Phil about a few of the assholes. It was pretty typical for them.

They didn’t have a real tree, just a wreath that Phil had gotten for free from the tree lot. It was plenty for them and Phil had set his gift for Clint beneath where Clint had hung the wreath. It was a large box, which had been part of Clint’s excitement to get Phil something special this year, since clearly it must be something nice. 

Phil magicked the dishes into the sink for later and grabbed his gift for Clint and Clint grabbed the now wrapped comic from atop the fridge. 

Phil’s smile had remained at full power through most of dinner and Clint was getting anxious about what in the world Phil had bought him. Hopefully Clint’s gift compared.

“I hope you like what I got you.” Clint passed the gift over to Phil as he flopped onto the couch.

“I hope so too. And that you like the- my gift.” Phil stumbled as he dodged around spoiling the surprise. “You go first.”

“No, you.”

“How about at the same time?” Phil conceded.

Clint nodded, that seemed fair.

Nothing on the outside of the box gave any clues as to what was inside. Clint gave it a bit of a shake. Something small and metal inside jangled, but Phil didn’t say anything about it being fragile. “Is it a box of zippers or something?” Clint joked.

Phil huffed a laugh. “Just open it, you doof.”

“Geeze, pushy much.” Clint set the box down to pull it open. 

Inside, a nice looking leather case was settled on white tissue paper. Clint pulled it out and felt his stomach drop out. It was a bow case. A really, really nice case that had a custom foam inside for his bow to rest in. He swallowed back his initial swear. The panic was already starting to build. _What was he supposed do now? How could he possibly tell Phil that he didn’t have his bow anymore when he’d clearly spent so much on this? He shouldn’t have sold his bow. He should have just…_ Clint sucked in as much air as he could.

Phil was carefully pulling the paper from his gift, but must have sensed something off about the silence. “Is everything okay? I took all the measurements, and I tested it when it was done. Your bow fit. I didn’t mess something up, did I? Your bow is just so nice and you carry around in that gym back all the time. With you taking your bike or the bus all the time, I just thought it would nice.”

“Phil. I-”

Phil gasped, and Clint looked at him to see his shocked expression. He clearly loved the comic book. Clint wasn’t sure if that made the dread he felt better or worse. Number 3 was the last of the original run that Phil had needed to complete his collection, mostly composed of issues passed down to Phil from his father and, before that, his grandfather. There was something sad in Phil’s expression, though, and Clint wasn’t sure what to read into that.

Phil looked at Clint. “Clint this so great. I-” He took a deep breath, looking somewhat sheepish. “I sold a few of the issues I’d found to pay for the bow case. None of Dad’s or anything, but #6 and #11.”

“You what?!” Clint was sure he sounded a little hysterical. “You sold your comics? But it took you years to find the missing ones. Phil -” And then the reality caught up with Clint, “Oh my god. Phil, I sold my bow to buy the comic for you. I didn’t have enough to cover it and-”

“You sold your bow? But Clint-” Phil cut himself off. There were tears in the corners of Phil’s eyes. Clint wiped tears out of his own eyes.

“I’m sorry, Phil. I just knew that comic was the last one you needed and-”

Phil kissed him. “It’s okay. I love the comic. I’m happy to have it. You clearly put a lot of effort into getting it for me. You sold your bow for me. You love your bow.”

“But the case, it’s so nice. And it’s useless without my bow.” Clint tried not to choke on the words.

“No, it’s not. I’ll just buy a new foam setting when you get a new bow.”

Clint just hugged Phil, drawing his legs up. “I guess, it’s supposed to the thought that counts, right?”

“Yes, it is.”

They stayed cuddled together for awhile. Phil turned the television on and kissed Clint’s hair. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

* * *

Stark’s party was always a little insane, but Pepper pulled both of them over to a couch as soon as they arrive. Phil gave her the sweater they’d bought her. She loved it.

“I got you’re presents too. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” Pepper was quick as could be expect when navigating a room of people who are slowly (some not as slow as others) becoming both larger in both number of people and number of people drinking egg nog. She was also playing hostess, and making sure that people knew where to find food, drinks, and bathrooms.

Pepper’s present for Clint was a large, long box and a box similar in size to the typical shirt box for Phil. “Open them while I get you guys drinks.”

Clint and Phil shared a look. She was up to something. Clint started opening the box, thinking about no matter what sneakiness Pepper was up to, Clint and Phil had already given each other amazing gifts and it really didn’t matter.

Clint brushed aside the packing peanuts to see a wood bow. His bow. Clint snapped up to first attempt protesting to Pepper, who was not quite back yet, and then to stare at Phil. Phil was also looking at Clint in shock, holding in his hand Captain America # 6 and #11.

Pepper set their drinks down before sitting next to Phil. “I hope you guys like them. I thought Clint might like it since you bought him that case and I didn’t know which issues you still needed Phil, but if those aren’t the right ones, I can try to trade them.” She smiled, clearly daring them to challenge her story. “Oh, also these are for you, too.” Handing them two more boxes, these smaller. Phil’s was the action figure she mentioned, Clint’s a pack of his preferred brand of arrows.

Pepper Potts was the best.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the story The Gift of the Magi, specifically the Mickey and Minnie Mouse incarnation that was released when I was like six. Except, Pepper saves interferes, because she is an amazing friend who recognizes these two as having self sacrificing tendencies and can sometimes be sneaky.
> 
> As far as my depiction of Clint's anxiety, that is heavily based on my own struggles with "oh god why was I so stupid" and my own coping mechanisms. I recently lost a rather expensive item and I kind of used this fic to forgive myself for the screw up and lack of foresight. But I, like Clint, would rather buy presents for others than make up for my own unexpected failings and am currently sans cell service. I wish I had a Pepper Potts to save me from myself, but my coffers will be refilled soon and I can buy a new one. So, yay for in fic wish fulfillment.


End file.
